From Time to Time
by Vampire-Badger
Summary: Backstories and side stories from Before Time.
1. Chapter 1

Haytham Kenway

Haytham didn't even know he was a father until his son was five years old. That was when he walked into his usual grocery store, and came face to face with the last woman in the world he wanted to see.

"Ziio," he said, too startled to pretend he hadn't seen her.

Her mouth did a funny thing that looked like she was trying to smile, but couldn't quite manage it. "Haytham."

"I didn't think I would see you again."

"Well. I didn't either."

"What... what are you doing here?"

"Buying groceries."

His face had to be red as a tomato. He could feel it heating up, and knew from experience that nothing he did would keep his embarrassment from showing. Haytham had never met anyone other than Ziio that could make him stutter and stumble like she did, but apparently she hadn't lost the ability since high school.

They'd been friends then. Just friends. Maybe, if Haytham had been a little braver, or a little less concerned about what his friends would say about him dating one of the weirdest girls in school, he and Ziio could have ended up a couple. She'd certainly seemed like she liked him at the time, but somehow they never managed to make that next step.

And then, about six years ago, they'd met up by chance in a bar, gotten blind drunk, and woken up together in the back of Ziio's ancient pickup truck. Haytham had made everything one hundred percent more awkward by panicking and running away before she even woke up.

He'd left his pants behind, and spent the morning throwing up and fighting a hangover the likes of which he'd never had before. Since then, he'd ignored her every attempt to get in contact with him, done his best to block out the entire memory of that night (and the rest of the week, just to be absolutely safe), and buried himself in his work instead.

"Of course." Haytham's forced smile didn't look any more convincing than Ziio's. "Groceries. In a grocery store. That makes sense."

"Momma, momma!"

Ziio looked down as a dark kid with his hair hanging into his face came running down the aisle. "Ratonhnhaké:ton," she scolded. "I _told_ you not to wander away like that again."

"Sorry." He held up something Haytham couldn't see. "But can we get this?"

"Not this time."

"But _momma_..!"

Haytham didn't really hear any of the rest of the conversation. He was staring like an idiot at the little boy, trying to figure out how old he looked. Ziio sent the boy running back the way he'd come, with strict orders to put whatever he was holding back and return right away. Then she looked up at Haytham.

"Who…" he didn't want to ask who the father was. Except it had been six years since he'd woken up in the back of a truck next to Ziio, and the kid looked maybe five. "How old?"

Ziio looked at him. Her voice and her face were as unreadable as ever. "Yes," she said.

"Yes… what?"

"Yes, he is your son."

And that was how Haytham officially became a father. That was how everything in the world shifted in an instant, how he suddenly became only the second most important person in his own life. "How?" he asked, and then when her stare became somehow _more_ expressionless, he hurried to add, "I know _how_ , I mean I understand the biology. But you didn't say anything to me about it."

"You did a very good job of ignoring me," Ziio said. "Eventually I had to choose between giving up, and getting the courts involved. I thought it would be easier for both of us if I just let things go."

"But I should- it's not right-"

He was still fumbling for the right words when the boy… what had Ziio called him? Ratten… something- he came back, moving more slowly now and holding something different, something in a bright colored box perfectly designed to catch the eye of a toddler. He held it up almost sheepishly, like he expected the answer was going to be no but had to try anyway.

"Momma," he said, looking up at her with big, pleading eyes. "How aboutis one?"

Ziio looked down at him, then up at Haytham. Her expression was stone but her eyes were conflicted, and there was a long moment of hesitation before she leaned over and put her hands on their son's shoulders. She gently turned him around, so that he was looking directly at Haytham for the first time. "Why don't you ask your daddy if he'll buy it for you?"

The boy shuffled his feet, looking suddenly shy. Then he turned back to his mother and tugged on her sleeve until she leaned down enough for him to whisper in her ear. "What's a daddy?" he hissed, and that was the moment when Haytham realized that this wasn't going to be easy, at all.

-/-

A year after that, Ziio finally agreed to leave Ratonhnhaké:ton alone with Haytham for the day. It had been twelve long months of gradually less uncomfortable meetings, of trying to win back a trust Haytham wasn't sure he had ever actually had. But until then, Ziio had never been willing to let their son out of her sight while Haytham was around. He wasn't sure whether to view this as good parenting, or as a lack of faith in him.

"Why the change?" Haytham asked in the morning, when Ziio came by his house with Ratonhnhaké:ton in tow.

"It's nothing important," she said, and Haytham almost believed her. "It's just that there's this ceremony today, it's traditional." She spoke reluctantly, as she always had when the subject of her tribe came up. In high school, it had given her an air of mystery that Haytham had been very attracted to at sixteen. Now, the secrecy worried him. "But I think Ratonhnhaké:ton is too young to be involved. So I'm leaving him with you. As long as you still want to take him."

"I do," Haytham said at once. "What time will you be back?"

"Late," Ziio said. "I'm sorry I can't be any more specific than that."

"It's alright."

"Just put him to bed at around eight," she said. "Make sure he eats something healthy for dinner."

"I will," Haytham promised, and Ziio turned to pull Ratonhnhaké:ton out of the car seat in the back of her car. Not a truck, anymore, Haytham couldn't help noticing. Probably a good thing, as he didn't want their son riding around in the car where he'd been conceived for the first few years of his life.

It was half past six, and the boy didn't look fully awake yet. His eyes were almost glued shut, and he wrapped himself around his mother while she lifted him up, his head leaning against her shoulder. The thumb of one hand was in his mouth, and the other hand clutched at a stuffed wolf that looked like it had seen better days. He made a tiny noise of complaint as he was transferred from one parent to the other, but did not otherwise react.

He was heavier against Haytham's side than he had expected.

"I'll take care of him," Haytham promised.

"I know you will," Ziio said. She leaned down to give Ratonhnhaké:ton a kiss on his forehead, then hesitated, and gave Haytham a swift peck on the cheek as well. And then, she was gone.

Ratonhnhaké:ton didn't wake up until half past ten. It was a Thursday, but Haytham had taken the day off work, and so he was still sitting on the couch in a pair of old shorts and a slightly ratty T-shirt, reading a book, when Ratonhnhaké:ton shuffled into the room.

He was yawning and rubbing at his eyes when he suddenly saw Haytham and froze. For a second he just stared, and then very slowly he lifted up the stuffed wolf so that he was hugging it in front of his chest like a shield. "Where's momma?" he asked.

"She had to go," Haytham said, purposefully keeping his voice bright. Ratonhnhaké:ton's mouth dropped open into an expression of absolute panic, and Haytham went on quickly, "She's coming back, though."

"When?"

"Tonight," Haytham said. "So tomorrow you'll wake up safe and sound at home with your mother, okay? Not that you won't be safe here, I mean-" He stopped, because his rush of words only seemed to be making things worse.

"But that's not fair!" Ratonhnhaké:ton whined, stomping one foot against the carpet. "I'm supposed to be old enough this year!"

"Old enough for what?" Haytham asked, thinking of the ceremony Ziio had mentioned before leaving. Alright, so maybe a part of him was just as curious about Ziio's people as he had been back in high school.

"For-" He stopped and shook his head. "I'm not supposed to tell. It's a secret."

"Ratonhnhaké:ton-"

"And stop calling me that!" Ratonhnhaké:ton whined. Either he was very upset about his mother leaving, or he was still waking up. Either way, Haytham had been around his son for long enough to know this was going to turn unpleasant if the boy didn't cheer up soon.

"But it's your name," Haytham pointed out.

"No it isn't!" he sat down against the wall next to the door frame and frowned over the top of the wolf. "You're saying it wrong. You _always_ say it wrong."

"Well, no one told me," Haytham said.

"Momma said it would be rude to tell you," Ratonhnhaké:ton muttered, staring up at Haytham like a challenge.

"Well, I'll try to be better," Haytham said. He thought of Ziio, and how hard it had been for him to pronounce her full name before she shortened it for him. "Do you have a nickname?"

"No," he mumbled.

"Okay then," Haytham said. "How about- how about I give you a name I can use with you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, I can't say the name your mom gave you," Haytham said. "But I'm your dad, so I can give you a name too. And it will be our secret, okay?" Because he doubted Ziio would like him renaming their son without her permission. "Just between you and me."

"Okay," Ratonhnhaké:ton whispered, after a little bit of consideration. He scooted forward on his butt until he was sitting in front of the couch and craning his head to look up at Haytham. "What name?"

"How about-"

"No, no!" Ratonhnhaké:ton hissed his protest up at Haytham, shaking his head vigorously. "It's a secret, remember? You have to be quiet!"

"Right," Haytham said. "You're right, of course, sorry." He lowered himself off the couch, sitting cross legged next to his son. Then he leaned over and whispered. "Connor," he said, and leaned back to watch his son mouth the name with obvious consideration.

"It sounds boring," he said, but he didn't sound as whiny anymore. "It's short and boring like your name. Does it mean anything?"

"Wolf lover," Haytham said, ignoring the boring comment. His son looked surprised for a second, then looked down at his stuffed animal and smiled.

"Okay," he allowed. "That makes sense."

"You like it?"

"Well… I do like wolves," Ratonhnhaké:ton allowed. Connor. Connor allowed. "I can get used to the name."

"That's very big of you," Haytham said seriously, and Connor smiled at him. That smile was worth more than actually being able to pronounce his son's name- normally, Connor was much more reserved around him, as stony at five years old as his fully grown mother. Maybe it was a genetic thing. "Does your wolf have a name?" he asked, and Connor patted his stuffed animal's head.

"Yea," he said. "His name is Puppy."

"So it's a baby wolf?" Haytham asked.

"Well, yea," Connor said. "A grown up wolf would be mean." He hesitated, still patting the wolf's head. "I want to be a wolf someday."

"But you're a person."

But Connor smiled, and started whispering again. "Can I tell you another secret?" he asked.

"Sure."

"That's what they're doing at home today," Connor said. "They make a magic tea and drink it, and then they can turn into animals."

"Why would they do that?" Haytham asked. He'd never heard of a potion that allowed people to change into animals, but it wasn't the strangest potion he'd ever heard of. The fact that he'd never heard of it just meant Ziio's people were doing a very good job of keeping it a secret.

"It's tradition," Connor explained. "Momma said they've been doing it for hundreds of years."

"Long time."

"Yea," Connor said. "And I'm a big kid now, so I was supposed to do it this year. All my friends get to, but momma says it's too _dangerous_."

He looked like he was about to get mopey again, so Haytham nudged him in the side with his foot. "Hey," he said. "Do you want ice cream?"

"For breakfast?" Connor demanded, immediately distracted.

"Sure," Haytham said. "Why not?"

Connor giggled and jumped to his feet, running for the kitchen. "My momma's gonna kill you!"

-/-

Haytham had expected Ziio to be back late, after what she'd said when she dropped Connor off. So when Connor dozed off on the couch while watching TV, Haytham covered him with a blanket, tucked Puppy into the boy's arms, and didn't think anything was wrong. But then he dozed off as well, and when he woke it was 1:30 in the morning, and Ziio still wasn't there.

Haytham got off the couch, moving gently in case he woke Connor, and checked his cell phone. No missed calls, texts, or emails. That was when he started to think that something was wrong.

He tried contacting Ziio every way he could think of, and then started to think about calling the police. He was still contemplating this when someone knocked on the door, and when Haytham looked out the window he saw flashing blue and red lights. That was when he _knew_ that something was wrong.

He went out to the front yard to talk to the two policemen waiting there. The quiet suburban street, lit by the strobing police lights on top of the car, looked surreal. Haytham felt almost disconnected from his own body, like he was watching the conversation from far away.

He heard the officers ask for his ID, and watched himself offer a driver's license. He listened from somewhere outside himself as the officers told him that there had been an accident. They said it was wild animals, that Ziio and the people around her had been attacked in the early evening and that most of them had been killed.

Wild animals, Haytham thought. Or maybe not. Maybe it was the potion Connor had talked about. Maybe, taking Connor here instead of keeping him with her had been the best thing Ziio could possibly have done.

But he said nothing, not until the police started talking about taking Connor to social services and figuring out what to do with him later. That was when he tersely informed the man that he was the father, and that he had no intention of letting anyone take his son away, and that he would do whatever was required to make sure that happened.

The man tried to argue, but never stood a chance. When he and his partner left at around five in the morning, Connor was still sprawled out on the couch inside, safely asleep and completely unaware that anything was wrong.

At least until the next morning, when Connor woke up, and found Haytham nodding off at the kitchen table. He hadn't slept at all after the police left, and it was starting to show in the way he couldn't keep his eyes open.

"Daddy?" Connor asked. He was hovering in the doorway, Puppy still in one hand, looking at Haytham. "Where's momma?"

"Something happened," Haytham said slowly.

Connor frowned. "But you said when I woke up this morning, I would be home again."

"Your mom… you can't see her right now. There was an accident."

"But- but you _said_!"

"I know," Haytham said. "But I didn't know something was going to happen."

"I want momma!" Connor whimpered. He hugged Puppy closer, burying his face in the grubby fur and sniffling.

Haytham got up, gathered Connor in his arms, and sat down with the boy on his lap. "Your mom had an accident," he said gently.

"…she okay?" Connor asked, and Haytham sighed.

"No," he said. "She's dead."

And Connor started to cry.

 **-/-**

 **Taking requests for other characters you guys want to see more of. Apart from Connor, because more of his story is coming up next.**


	2. Chapter 2

Ratonhnhaké:ton | Connor Kenway

At ten years old, Connor could not remember a time in his life when he had not hated his father.

Moving in with Haytham had been the hardest thing Connor had ever had to do. He'd been only six when everything in his life was taken away from him, and replaced with a father he barely knew (who could look a six year old child full in the face and tell him _his mother was dead_ in a matter of fact voice that Connor still had nightmares about). Maybe, without that, Connor might have grown up to like his father. But as things stood, and even knowing none of this was Haytham's fault, Connor couldn't bring himself to forgive his father for his mother's death.

That had made him angry and rebellious. He'd run away a dozen times already, but this time, he was _absolutely_ convinced _,_ it was going to work. Connor left before dawn, he took all the money he'd gotten from his grandfather on his last birthday, and he went to the bus stop. He'd looked up the times already, he knew what bus to get on, and where to get off. And he hadn't left any clues behind this time, so there was _no way_ his dad was going to find-"

"And where exactly are you going this time?" Haytham asked, sitting down next to Connor on the wooden bench under the shelter.

Connor crossed his arms and slid down the bench, away from his father. "Home," he told him. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"And where is home?" Haytham asked, ignoring the question.

"Home," Connor repeated. He didn't want to cry, but he couldn't quite stop himself. "I want to see momma. I want to see my friends again." His voice rose into a warbling complaint. "I just wanna go home!"

"Okay," Haytham said, and the answer was so unexpected that Connor had to double check.

"I can really go home?" he asked.

"Can any of us?" Haytham sighed.

"What?"

"Never mind," Haytham said. He looked down the road, toward the distant shape of a bus on its way toward them. "I think this is our ride."

"Do you have to come with?" Connor complained.

"Either I come, or you don't," Haytham said, and Connor gave in at last.

"Fine. You can come."

But on the bus, Connor sat down next to the window, and put his backpack down on the empty seat next to him. With no other choice, Haytham sat in a seat two rows back and across the aisle from Connor. Good enough.

The bus rumbled on. After a while, when the landscape around them got boring, Connor unzipped his backpack and pulled Puppy out. He was ten years old, yes, and the kids at school made fun of him for sleeping with a stuffed animal. But Puppy was the only friend Connor had left in the world now, and the only thing his mother had given him that had lasted.

"Do you remember momma?" Connor whispered into the wolf's ear. Because he barely could. Just a smile sometimes, or the snatch of a lullaby as he fell asleep, or a scent carried toward him on the wind. But he couldn't really remember her anymore. Not her face. "I don't remember so good." He frowned, absent mindedly playing with the stuffed animal's two front paws.

"She liked fall best of all."

"Stop talking to me," Connor begged his father. He didn't look up. "I don't wanna talk to you!"

"She liked fall," Haytham continued. "But she hated when the trees lost their leaves. She said it made them look like empty husks."

"It's not fair," Connor whispered, but the complaint was halfhearted now. "Why do you get to remember her but I don't?" He looked at his father, and saw Haytham watching him.

"She would take leaves when they fell, and press them into books to look at during winter. Then she would pull them out and let them go in the spring, when the trees got new leaves."

Connor bit his lip. "Why did she like fall?"

"The weather," Haytham said promptly. "And the smell of the wind when it changed."

"You know a lot about her," Connor said.

"She was my friend for a long time," Haytham said.

"What else did she like?" Connor asked.

"The color blue," Haytham said. "Saturdays. Running. Doing the right thing, no matter what. Her home and her family."

"Why did she like you?" Connor asked, and Haytham finally stopped looking at him.

"That one, I don't have an answer to," he admitted.

They got to the right stop in the end, a rundown place on the edge of the city, and Connor got up to leave first. He remembered this place, he knew how to get home from here! In his excitement, he remembered to grab his backpack, but left Puppy behind, something he wouldn't remember until later.

He could hear his father shouting at him, but didn't slow down. How could he slow down when he was so close to home? It was right here, on the other side of… of this hill.

That was where it had been, anyway. Four years ago, when Connor last saw it. Now it was old and dirty and deserted, a neighborhood of empty houses with bright yellow warning signs on the outside. _Condemned. Keep out._ Looking at it now, Connor really and truly understood that his mother was dead. Everyone was dead, and he could never see them again.

"Connor!" Haytham sounded winded, running up behind him. "Connor, _don't_ just take off like-"

"She's dead!" Connor shouted. The words hit the silence of the empty neighborhood in front of them and were swallowed up. He doubled over, clutching at himself like that would stop the world from flying apart into a million impossible pieces. Because he'd known it but he hadn't _known_ it.

"I know." Haytham's footsteps stopped just behind Connor, and Connor felt his father's hand resting lightly on the back of his head.

"Everyone's dead!"

"You're not."

And didn't that seem unfair? "My tummy hurts," Connor complained. Because that wasn't quite right, but he didn't know how to explain the empty feeling in his chest.

"I know," Haytham said again. "Me, too."

"I didn't get to say goodbye," Connor said.

"Maybe it's better this way," Haytham said. "Goodbyes are so final. They're sad."

"I didn't get to say I love you."

His father's voice was warm. "Don't you think she knew?"

"Oh." He nodded, relaxing a little for what felt like the first time since he was six years old. Then, just as abruptly, he went stiff again. "Daddy!" he gasped. "Daddy, I left Puppy on the bus, I need-"

And then there was his daddy, sitting down on the ground and pulling Connor into his lap, wrapping his arms around Connor and offering Puppy to him in one smooth motion. "Don't worry," Haytham said. "Don't ever worry. I got him."

Connor grabbed for Puppy and caught his father's wrist instead. He hesitated, surprised, but didn't let go. Instead, he pulled at his father's hand, tugging it across his chest so that Puppy was resting in his lap and Haytham's arm sturdy as a rock around him.

And for a while, all three of them just sat on the ground on the top of the hill, and looked at the empty neighborhood where everyone Connor had ever known had died.

-/-

Six years passed before Connor decided it was time to leave his father's home again. This time he was going to school, not running away, and somehow this scared him more. He stood in the middle of his bedroom, turning in a slow circle as he tried to figure out if he was forgetting something.

His father stood in the doorway, trying not to laugh. "You look ridiculous," he said.

"I'd rather look ridiculous than forget something," Connor said seriously.

Haytham walked into the room, and reached for something on the top shelf of the closet. "Aren't you bringing Puppy?" he asked, and Connor rolled his eyes at the faded gray fabric of the ancient toy.

"Dad," he complained. "I'm sixteen. Not six."

"You used to go everywhere with him," Haytham said fondly.

" _Dad_."

But Haytham had that look on his face that parents got when they were thinking about how fast their children grew up, and clearly Connor's arguments weren't going to have any effect while he was like that. "I'm going to make lunch," Connor announced. "You can come down when you stop being embarrassing."

He was halfway through eating before Haytham actually came down, though. Connor offered him some food, but Haytham waved him away, obviously distracted. At first, Connor just shrugged and got on with his own meal, but eventually he got tired of the way his father just sat there watching him. "What?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"

"You're leaving tomorrow," Haytham said.

"Yes," Connor said. "I know, actually."

"I'm going to miss you," Haytham said, and he said it so casually that Connor knew he must have been considering the words for a while. "I didn't think you would be leaving home until college."

"It's a good school," Connor said slowly. "I want to learn."

"You never showed an interest in magic before," Haytham said bluntly. "And with all due modesty, I'm very good at what I do. You could stay here and learn as much as you would ever need."

"I just want to go there," Connor said. "It's nothing against you. It's not _personal_."

But it was, a little bit, and they both knew it. Connor had picked someone else over his father to teach him magic, and he didn't even know quite why he'd done it. He liked his father, a lot more than he had as a child at least. They got along, most of the time. They could even laugh together once in a while. Their relationship was comfortable, they understood each other, they knew more about one another than anyone else.

"Just tell me why," Haytham said. "I know you, Connor. You wouldn't have made a decision like this without putting a lot of thought into it first. The fact that you chose not to share any of this thinking at all with me makes me- I'm worried."

"I want to learn the kinds of things that you wouldn't teach me," Connor said slowly. "I want to learn about the kinds of potion that killed my mother." He hurried on while Haytham was still processing this. "I don't want to use it. I know it's dangerous. I don't-" He smiled a little. "I don't want to be a wolf, anymore. But I want to know what my mother was doing during her last hours. What she was thinking and feeling and doing. And maybe I can learn other things that will help people. Just working with potions would be interesting. I could be the guy that finds supplies for other people- that would be fun. Out in nature all the time."

"Then I think I understand," Haytham said eventually. "I mean- I suppose I do. If you're doing this because of your mother, I know you've always preferred her over me-"

"Dad," Connor said. He was not, had never been, good at expressing himself. But he got up to put his dishes away, and patted his father's shoulder on the way past. "I miss her. But you're here, and you're my dad, and I love you."

He hesitated in the doorway of his room, looking over his shoulder toward his father. "And I'll miss you too when I'm gone."

-/-

When he left the next morning, Haytham added Puppy to the pile of boxes going with Connor to school. Connor pretended not to notice, at least until he was safely at school and unpacking his things. Then he moved the battered toy to a spot behind his bed, out of sight of his dormmates but just barely visible to him.

 **-/-**

 **A quick note, in case anyone thinks I'm abandoning Before Time to work on these side stories. I am _not_ doing that, but I am a little bit stuck. The problem is that story has gotten so complicated, I'm confusing myself. So, I'm taking a break while I do some planning, figure out where the rest of the story is going, how to get there, etc. In the meantime, I'm just writing these shorter stories to keep my head in the world while I sort through stuff.**


	3. Chapter 3

Ezio Auditore AND Sofia Sartor

Ezio did not usually go on first dates with the intention of checking out his date's future. Women he just barely knew tended to be freaked out by strangers that knew about their personal lives. As he had found out all the way back in high school, when his prom date had slapped him so hard she'd actually broken skin with the ring she'd been wearing.

But Sofia was different. When they'd first met, back in the hotel where Hope was hiding Shay, Ezio had been distracted by other things and he'd _still_ felt it while looking at her. It. He… didn't have a name for _it_. For the way he suddenly couldn't breathe when he looked at her, the way his body went all cold and hot at the same time, the way he felt like he was falling and never wanted to land.

 _It_ was obviously some kind of vision, Ezio had seen and felt enough of them in his life to recognize that much. But he wasn't even trying, and the feelings he got when he looked at Sofia were so strong, Ezio almost couldn't really believe them. He needed to see her again, and check this time. Look at her future and figure out what this feeling was and where it was coming from.

That was why he'd flown halfway across the country just to see her again. He hadn't told Sofia, of course, because what kind of a man went that far out of his way for a date with a woman he'd only had one conversation with? Stalkers and serial killers, maybe. Internet predators.

Psychics, apparently, and Ezio had a moment of horrified self-doubt as he wondered if maybe he was that kind of man. He thought he had a good reason for what he was doing, but maybe he was deluding himself. After all, creepy stalkers had to be convinced they had a good reason for what they were doing too, right?

Oh, God, he was a creepy stalker.

Ezio made an embarrassing noise that he would never have allowed himself if there were other people around. As it was, Ezio was alone in the middle of the park where he and Sofia had arranged to meet, although he suddenly didn't plan on being there much longer. He shoved his phone into his pocket, and turned in one quick movement to leave.

"Oh!"

He heard the sharp gasp of surprise, but not soon enough to keep from crashing into the woman standing just next to him. He had half a second to recognize _Sofia_ before they were went down in a tangle of arms and legs, and Ezio turned on instinct so that he was under her as they fell. His back hit the ground hard enough to send all the air rushing out of his lungs, and the visions came roaring like a waterfall into his mind.

And what visions they were. Ezio was thirty three years old, and for nearly all that time he had been defined as a person by the fact that he was psychic. To his parents, his brothers and sister, the friends he had as a child and the people he met as an adult, he was _that psychic, Ezio_. Not even _Ezio, the psychic._ He was a psychic before he was a person, and for the most part, Ezio had embraced that.

But despite a lifetime of visions and studies, three decades defined by his abilities instead of who he was as a person, Ezio had never seen or felt anything like this. He looked at Sofia's face, inches above his, and it was like he could see every moment of her future all at once. Her face, worried and alarmed over his, softened and aged in his vision, into a face he knew(-or-would-know). Her eyes watching him were bright in this light, and Ezio suddenly loved her with every cell in his body, every fiber of his heart and soul.

They weren't his feelings, not yet. These were just the echoes of what he would one day feel for her, and somehow that was the most beautiful thing in the world. To know that kind of love was waiting for him a few months or a few years in the future was too much for the moment to keep inside. Ezio pushed himself up from the ground, carrying Sofia along with him until they were sitting up, and then he kissed her.

It was not a _first kiss_ kind of kiss. This was the kind of kiss that two people that knew each other well (or possibly intimately) would share, slow and long and gentle. At the end of it, when they were pulling away and Ezio was just starting to get himself under control, neither of them said anything. Sofia giggled, and her face was pink- Ezio watched her fidget and glance at him from the corners of her eyes.

"So-"

"What was-"

They both stopped, and Ezio held up his hands in an apologetic gesture. "I'm sorry," he said. "Go ahead, you first."

"I just- what was that for?" Sofia asked. "Not that I didn't… I mean, I would do that again, if you wanted. But why..?"

"I'm going to be in love with you," Ezio said, before he could stop the words.

"Is that a prediction or a proclamation?" Sofia asked.

"Sorry?"

"A prediction would be a guess about what's going to happen in the future," she explained. Her voice was impressively matter of fact for someone that had just been knocked down by a guy she barely knew and then stared at and then kissed. "A proclamation would be a way of declaring your intentions. You aren't sure yet that you will love me, but you want to try and make it happen."

"Oh." She talked like she'd swallowed a dictionary. "Then a prediction, for sure. Except I'm not guessing." He hesitated, thinking again about being a creepy stalker. Then he decided to forge ahead. "I know. For sure."

"There's no way you can know for sure," Sofia argued. "You'd have to be psychic."

"Yea," Ezio said. She looked at him, confused, and then saw his eyes.

"Oh," she said. _"Oh."_

"Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because- most people don't like psychics. I know most people like us in theory, but then when they meet one of us-"

"I don't mind," Sofia said. "So that was our future?"

"More than that, I think," Ezio said. Because he had kissed half a hundred women in his life, and none had felt like that. "But I don't know exactly what we are to each other. Sometimes it's dangerous to look too closely at the future. It locks you into that future, and that's not always a good thing. It-"

She tugged at his coat sleeve and frowned at him. "Look?"

So he did. He opened himself up to whatever part of his mind it was that let him see into the future, and really looked at Sofia. And he saw her older. Maybe five years, but Ezio was bad at estimating ages and she still looked beautiful to him. She was sitting in a bed somewhere, intently focused on the book in her lap. Next to her, sprawled out unattractively in sleep, Ezio recognized himself. For just a second, all was peace, and then the vision was interrupted by shrill screaming and the sound of bare feet against a wooden floor.

A boy and a girl raced into the room, shrieking at each other as they jumped up on top of the bed. They were close in age, although the girl looked a little older. Neither could have been older than four. The boy landed on top of Ezio, who jerked awake and wrapped his arms around his pudgy little body. The girl latched herself onto Sofia, who put one arm around the girl's shoulder as she started into a long complaint about something her brother had done.

"Ezio?" Sofia asked. She prodded his side with her finger, jolting him out of the future. "What did you see?"

"Children," he said.

"Children?" She looked like she was torn between laughing at him and wanting to believe what he said. Then she stood up, and Ezio scrambled to his feet after her.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "Please don't leave, I didn't mean to scare you with that-"

"I'm not scared," Sofia said, and to be fair she really didn't sound like she might be. "I just think that if we're going to discuss children, we might as well have dinner first."

"I- sure." And Ezio followed Sofia out of the park, a little bit dazed by everything he'd just seen and felt.

They were just leaving the park when Sofia reached out and put her hand in his. And they were three blocks farther along when she asked, "What were they like?"

"The children?"

"Our children," she agreed.

"Perfect," Ezio said.


	4. Chapter 4

Desmond Miles AND Shaun Hastings

 _"Desmond,"_ Altair sighed. _"Are you even paying attention to me?"_

 _"Not really,"_ Desmond said honestly. Well, enough to know that Altair had just been complaining about Malik, again. As if a twelve year old could possibly be that much trouble. _"I'm paying attention to this guy passed out on the bar."_

 _"Oh."_ There was a brief pause. _"Well, that's not unusual in your job, is it?"_

 _"Says the guy that's never been in a bar in his life,"_ Desmond said. _"And anyway, he hasn't even had anything to drink yet. So it's a little unusual, yes."_

 _"So wake him up,"_ Altair said. _"Or call an ambulance or something."_

Desmond made a face and nudged the guy a little. If anyone else had been in the bar, he would have been more aggressive in checking this guy out, but it was a slow day and there was nothing better to do. The stranger didn't wake up, but he started to snore gently.

 _"Are you kidding- Altair, this guy's sleeping."_

 _"Sleeping?"_

 _"Yes! He walks into my bar, and passes out like it's a hotel bed, or something!"_ He scowled into the empty air. _"And don't laugh at me."_

 _"I'm not laughing,"_ Altair protested. While laughing.

"Come on, man," Desmond grumbled, prodding at the sleeping stranger and ignoring his brother laughing in his head. "Get up and get out, this is a bar, not a bedroom."

"Go 'way," the man complained, and even slurred by sleep there was something distinctly foreign about his voice.

"I work here," Desmond said. " _You_ go away." And something he was poking was apparently the right thing to poke, because the stranger sat up and glared at Desmond like he'd just done something wrong.

"What?" he demanded.

"You're sleeping in my bar," Desmond said.

"I don't see your name on the door."

"You don't _know_ my name."

"Well, I don't see any name on the door," the man said. "You're just some random employee, I don't much care-"

Desmond had inherited Altair's weather control after they drank the animus potion together. And he didn't use them often, but the guy was just asking for his own localized rainstorm. For a minute, they just stared at each other, through the tiny rain shower that almost obscured the stranger's glare.

"Really?" the man asked eventually.

"You were asking for it," Desmond said. "Who comes to a bar and falls asleep?"

"Tired people!"

Desmond made a dismissive noise that seemed to irritate the stranger more than the rainstorm, even.

"I'm a lawyer," the man said, but it didn't seem like much of a threat, coming from this skinny man with the bad hair and the increasingly wet jacket.

"Do you want me to stop?"

The man glared by way of answer.

 _"Desmond,"_ Altair scolded. _"Be nice."_

 _"What are you, my mother?"_

 _"Brother,"_ he corrected, and Desmond grumbled mentally but flicked his wrist and drove away the weather. "Better?" he asked, and the stranger glared at him for half a second.

Then he punched him in the face.

"Ah!" Desmond reeled back, holding his nose and trying not to get blood on everything. "What the fuck?" he demanded.

"Better," the stranger said.

-/-

"You said you're a lawyer, right?" Desmond asked, the next time the man came back to his bar. It was a week after their first run in, and his face was still bandaged up from the punch. It throbbed just from looking at the guy, who had the kind of triumphant look on his face that meant he was _happy_ with himself.

"I did," he said. Then, almost warily, "Why?"

"I have a legal problem," Desmond said. "I-"

"No," said the man. "I do not give out free legal advice to people that try to drown me with indoor rainstorms."

"I want to hire you," Desmond said. "Actual money and everything, I swear."

"For what?" the man asked cautiously. "Don't you know any other lawyers?"

"Where would I meet other lawyers?" Desmond waved the question away. "Anyway, no. I don't. What I have is a problem, so can I hire you or not?"

"Depends what the problem is." And he settled back a little, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

"I have custody of this kid," Desmond said. "Kadar. He's twelve, and he's been with me since he was six. But the problem is, his dad wants him back. Six years ago, he was an alcoholic and abusive, but since then he's apparently cleaned himself up, gotten some decent work, a steady girlfriend, the whole nine yards. Last month, he hired a lawyer, and the lawyer contacted me to ask for Kadar and his brother back."

"Brother?"

"Malik," Desmond said. "He lives out west, with my brother. It's a long story, I can tell you later if you're interested. But the point is, I don't believe the father. And when I talked to Kadar about it, he got upset, said he didn't want to leave. So I… kind of promised I wouldn't let it happen."

"But, being a bartender and not a lawyer, you have no idea how to do that," the man said.

"Pretty much," Desmond admitted. "So… can you help?"

The man considered this for several seconds, then nodded. "I'm not a big fan of child abuse," he said.

"Well, few people are."

He leaned across the bar and held out a hand. "Shaun Hastings," he said. "We can talk about details more later, but I think I can help."

"Thank you." Desmond took the offered hand and shook it. "Desmond Miles."

And that was how they met.


	5. Chapter 5

**Note: This chapter crosses over with the fic _Visitors_ , by Riona. On this site it can be found at ****www . fanfiction . (n e t) /s/11432006/1/Visitors. However, for the full mess that is the Visitorverse (including my own contributions :D ), I suggest checking out archiveofourown . (o r g) /series/323396. In other news, FFN is really making it hard to share links, aren't they? :/**

VISITORVERSE

 **[Universe #609]**

Shay's first thought on opening his eyes was 'oh no,' followed quickly by 'not this world' and 'please, God, just kill me now.'

It wasn't like any of the worlds in his head were particularly fun to visit, but this one made absolutely no sense. Even with the memories of this world's Shay at the forefront of his mind, Shay was _completely and utterly lost_ , every time he came here. Which, luckily, had not been quite as often since he's had Hope's impending execution to focus on. He aimed for her world every time he fell asleep, and found himself slipping into another world, but sometimes… he missed.

Shay took a moment to just sit and focus on the things he knows for sure about this world before doing anything. For example, he knew that here, many of the people he knew from back home were called visitors. There were eight of them, living in different times and places, and they could somehow visit each other at random. Which might have been interesting, except no one apart from other visitors could see them. And sometimes they steal one another's bodies, which made Shay extremely uncomfortable. He came from a world full of magic, and _even so_ , this visiting thing still made his head spin. He thought it must be the time travel. Time travel was confusing, and this world made him wonder how Ezio and Arno managed the whole psychic thing. Their poor brains must be a constant mess.

This world's version of Shay sailed a ship and sometimes killed people, and while the first part of that was fun, the second was not so great. But this wasn't his world, so he did what he always did when he was unhappy with the life choices of some other Shay. Put it off as long as possible, basically, in the hope that he would be able to leave this world and wake up before he had to actually do anything shitty. Let the Shay of this world do the dirty work, at least he had signed up for it.

But there was no getting around visiting, while he was stuck in this world and this body, and soon enough Shay felt something like a tingle in his head. Abruptly, with no other warning, he was standing next to Ezio on the roof of a building that looked like… Italy, somewhere. Probably Italy, given that Ezio was, in fact, Italian.

"Shay!"

And there was absolutely no warning before Ezio grabbed Shay around the shoulders and hugged him like it was going out of style. Shay made a little gargling, groaning noise as his oxygen supply dwindled, and Ezio let go. "I hear congratulations are in order," Ezio said cheerfully. "Sorry I couldn't make the wedding."

"W-" Shay coughed, trying to get his breath back. "Wedding?"

Ezio nodded, but a little more hesitantly. "This isn't an out of order visit for you, is it?" he asked. "You- ah!" he seized at Shay's left hand, and gestured to the plain metal band there. "This is after the wedding, then."

"I'm married," Shay said, and he couldn't have said why that affected him so much. It was just… with his Hope so impossibly out of reach, and the one in his world technically a mass murdering psychopath, marriage wasn't something he'd even dared to think about. He tried to check the memories of this world's Shay, but they were all jumbled out of order and hard to understand, so he quickly gave up. "…Hope?" he asked tentatively. Hopefully, even, and Ezio laughed at him.

"You'd better not let Aveline hear you asking about other woman," he said. "I doubt she'd take it well."

"Oh." Aveline. As in his coworker, Aveline? She was nice enough, in his world, and helping him figure out how to control which universes he visited, but he wasn't even remotely interested in him. How had they ended up married, in this world?

"Listen," Ezio said. "Shay, are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," he lied.

There was a clatter of sudden footsteps on the roof behind them, and Shay turned to see Aveline herself arriving. Of course. Ezio congratulated her as well, and then Aveline turned determinedly to Shay.

"You're _pregnant_?" he demanded.

She raised her eyebrows at him, unimpressed, and grabbed him by the arm.

"I'll leave you two alone," Ezio said, winking broadly and heading as far from the pair as he could get, while they were visiting. "I'm sure you'd like some privacy, if you've just been married."

"Thank you," Aveline said sweetly, while Shay pleaded with his eyes for Ezio to come back and save him from sleeping with the wife of some other version of himself. Ezio either didn't notice, or ignored him.

"I don't understand…" he groaned to himself, and oddly enough, Aveline laughed at him.

"No," she said patiently. "That's _my_ code word."

And that was when she started kissing him.

The visit ended a little over an hour later, by which point Shay was left trying to figure out if this counted as him cheating on Hope, or as Aveline cheating on her version of Shay. Either way, he was pretty sure this wasn't really okay.

And then the visit was over, and they were back in their own home (which still didn't particularly _feel_ like home to Shay), curled up in bed together. And for just a second, as Shay looked down at Aveline's belly, swollen with pregnancy, he allowed himself to think. What it would feel like to be a father, lying in bed with the woman he loved. "Hope…" he breathed, still staring, still dreaming about the children that seemed so unreachably far away.

The air went cold almost immediately, and Shay remembered abruptly what Ezio had said about letting Aveline hear him talking about other woman. The look on Aveline's face made him very, very clear that she was not happy with him at that moment.

"Oops," he mumbled, and woke up.

Back in his own world, safe in bed and far away from that pregnant, angry Aveline, Shay breathed a silent prayer of apology to that other version of himself that he'd left in such an unpleasant situation.


	6. Chapter 6

WEDDING

 _"I've never been to a wedding before,"_ Altair told Desmond nervously when he woke up that morning.

 _"Think of it as a rehearsal for your own wedding,"_ Desmond said, which made Altair actually growl aloud.

 _"Who am I supposed to be marrying, exactly?"_ he demanded. _"I wish you'd stop joking about that_. _"_

 _"What?"_ Altair could hear Desmond laughing from the hotel room's bathroom. _"You better not tell Maria you think she's a joke."_

 _"Desmond,"_ Altair said, exasperated. He was glad his brother couldn't see the way his face was turning red, although he was sure Desmond could feel his embarrassment leaking into his own mind. _"Maria and I are just friends, really. I mean, I like her, but she's not… she wouldn't…"_

Desmond kept laughing, so Altair gritted his teeth and stirred up the air in the bathroom until Desmond shouted out in protest against the localized tornado. Malik looked up from his bed and rolled his eyes. "You two are awful," he informed Altair matter of factly. "And Ezio's going to be upset if you trash the hotel on the morning of his wedding."

"No he won't," Altair said. The bathroom door opened and Desmond came out, looking sulky with his hair all blown out of shape. "Today could be the end of the world, and all Ezio would notice would be Sofia."

Malik looked like he wanted to argue this, but really, it was true. He shook his head and sat up in bed. "I'm going to get dressed," he said. "Please try and stop arguing long enough to keep from ruining today for Ezio and Sofia."

When he had stalked off to the bathroom (complaining bitterly of the mess the baby tornado had made) and slammed the door, Altair looked over at Desmond, frowning. Desmond frowned back. They didn't need to say anything, not out loud and not in their heads, to know that they were both thinking the same thing. This was their first time coming back to the city where Kadar had died in nearly a year, and Malik had every right to be upset today.

If Altair had any idea how to make him feel better, he would have done it. By now, Malik was one of the few people in the world Altair truly liked and trusted. It was crazy, he sometimes thought, how absurdly different Malik was now from the sad, furious little boy that Altair had met in his class years ago. Or maybe he was the one that was different.

Either way, he had no idea what to do to help Malik. Desmond clearly didn't either, and the two of them were silent while they finished dressing (Desmond tried for several minutes to fix his hair, and then gave up after making it far worse). When Malik finished with the bathroom, they went downstairs together.

In the lobby, all was chaos. Ezio had one of those large Italian families (three siblings, a couple of in-laws, a whole cadre of nephews and nieces), and Sofia's half of the guest list was so full up with friends that it was hardly any better. They'd decided to have the ceremony at a church ("For our mothers," Ezio had explained to Altair), which was all well and good, except that someone had decided it would be a good idea to carpool.

It was not. Maybe, in a perfect world, where people could actually show up on time, it would have worked. In this world, where half the wedding party was running late, and the other half had no idea what was going on, it was a disaster. Altair ended up crammed in a car with a couple of Sofia's friends and their kids—and Maria.

She wedged herself into the backseat next to Altair just moments before someone slammed the door shut on them, and the car sped away from the hotel. Altair edged closer to Maria (because it was better than pressing himself against the sticky fingered toddler on his other side) and smiled awkwardly at her.

 _"Desmond…"_

 _"What?"_

He tried not to look like a man that was having a conversation in his head. _"I'm stuck in a car with Maria, and you made it all weird this morning, and now I don't know what to say."_

 _"Ask her out,"_ Desmond urged.

 _"Desmond!"_

 _"What do you want from me?"_ Desmond demanded. _"I'm sharing a car with Ezio's siblings, alright? It's absolutely terrifying."_

 _"Just… just next time, if Ezio tries to suggest carpooling—"_

 _"We say no,"_ Desmond agreed. _"I just hope Malik didn't get stuck with anyone too awful."_

"Hey," Maria said, tapping Altair on the shoulder. "Are you listening?"

"Sorry," he said, jumping a little. "What did you say?"

"How's Desmond?" Maria asked, grinning. It didn't really look like a happy grin. "I mean, since he's so much more interesting than me."

 _"Ask her out, ask her out!"_

 _"Desmond, shut up!"_

"Altair?" Maria said, smile fading a bit. "Are you alright?"

"What?" He stared at her, then remembered to nod. "Yes. Fine."

She allowed the two of them a moment of silence, then touched Altair's hand briefly. "We should talk," she said.

"Here?" Altair asked, glancing around the packed car.

Maria's lips go thin. "I can't seem to get you on your own anywhere else," she said. "You keep running away every time I try to talk to you."

"I didn't mean to," he lied.

"Good," Maria said. "Then you'll have no problem sitting here long enough for me to tell you—not ask, for the record, because I've been trying to _ask_ for weeks now, and you haven't given me the chance—"

"What?" Altair interrupted. "I didn't—"

She raised her voice and went on talking, right over him. "I'm going to _tell_ you that we're going out to dinner after the wedding tonight. Somewhere nice. And you're paying."

"Why am _I_ paying?"

"Because you're the one that keeps avoiding this date!"

Altair's breath caught in his throat. _"Desmond! Desmond, what do I say? She asked_ me _out!"_

Desmond's answer could have been mocking, he could have laughed and made a joke out of it. Instead, all the feelings radiating from him to Altair across their connection were nothing but warmth. _"You say yes."_

-/-

Arno was enormously excited that he and Elise had been put in charge of Lynn for the duration of the ceremony. The baby was six months old now, old enough to be away from her mother for a few hours, and frankly Hope needed the time to herself. Besides, with Elise away at college the past few months, this was the first time Arno had been able to introduce her to his sister in person.

"She looks even better than in the pictures," Elise said, bending over to look at Lynn in her stroller. The baby was currently occupied by gumming on the leg of a stuffed sheep.

"That must really be saying something," Arno said cheerfully.

"What?" Elise said. "You mean because you said me about a dozen pictures a day?"

"I've never had a sister before," Arno said defensively. "I'm excited!"

"No," Elise said, the word positively dripping with sarcasm. "Excited? Really? No way!"

"I want like fifty babies when I get married," Arno said cheerfully, ignoring her. Elise punched him on the shoulder, and they started heading into the church with the rest of the wedding party.

"Fifty?" she asked. "That's a lot of kids, you know?"

"Maybe twenty."

"Maybe like three," Elise said.

"Way more than three!"

"I think I should get a say," Elise said calmly.

"Why?"

"Well, I imagine I'm the mother in this hypothetical scenario."

He looked away from Lynn, and was surprised to see Elise's face had gone very red. His quickly went the same color in response. "That'd be really nice," he said. "But maybe we should get through Ezio's wedding first?"

"Sure," Elise laughed. Soon enough they'd found their seats, and Arno had managed to maneuver Lynn's stroller out of the way before lifting the baby into his lap, where she sat leaning against his chest, still working on that sheep.

 _"Arno?"_

Arno came _that_ close to dropping the baby out of sheer surprise, and tightened his grip on Lynn instead. She made a little surprised squawk and hit him with her sheep. He still wasn't used to having Shay in his head, and while he didn't dislike it (he liked it, really. A lot), it was still disconcerting.

Desmond, who'd already had years to get used to Altair, kept laughing at him.

" _Shay?"_

 _"How's Lynn?"_

Arno smiled and rolled his eyes. _"It's been half an hour,"_ he pointed out. _"I swear, I didn't manage to break her in half an hour."_

 _"I know,"_ Shay said. _"But—"_

 _"Relax!"_ Arno reminded him. _"This was supposed to be your day off, yours and Hope's. Let me take care of Lynn"_

 _"I don't need a day off from being a dad,"_ Shay said, sounding affronted even within his own head. _"It's pretty much the best job I've ever had."_

 _"She's good,"_ Arno said. _"She's safe, she's hitting me with a toy sheep. All is well, and I'll keep you updated if it makes you feel better."_

 _"Thanks, Arno,"_ Shay said, and his presence gradually faded in Arno's mind. Faded, but did not vanish—Arno was never really alone anymore, not since taking the animus potion. He had Shay in his mind, and a home full of people he loved, and Elise only ever a phone call away. His life was fuller now than it had ever been before, so much so that Arno couldn't always believe that it was actually real.

"Arno!" Elise said suddenly, grabbing his elbow. She pointed with her other hand toward the back of the church, where the wedding party was starting to line up for the walk in. "Look, it's starting!"

-/-

Ezio was grateful for his brother's hand on his elbow as Sofia came walking down the aisle. She was so beautiful, more beautiful than Ezio had ever seen her look before. It had nothing to do with her wedding dress (although Ezio had been strictly instructed by his mother to make sure and compliment her on said dress at the first opportunity), nothing to do with the painstakingly arranged flowers, or the hairstyle that had cost more than Ezio had thought a hairdresser could legally charge.

No. All he could see was her smile, the way she beamed at _him_ , and that was why he called her beautiful. He had a hard time concentrating through that smile, and as usual when he had a hard time concentrating, the first thing to go was his control over his visions. By the time Sofia joined him at the altar, Ezio's vision was filled with happy predictions of the many years they had coming together.

The priest looked at him. "Do you, Ezio Auditore, take Sofia Sartor, for your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part?"

"I do," Ezio said, and Federico pinched his arm hard. The visions faded a bit, and Ezio was abruptly aware of the church filling up with laughter. He grinned sheepishly, and Sofia grinned back. So apparently the priest hadn't actually asked that yet. Damn visions.

Luckily the rest of the ceremony manages to go smoothly, much more so than Ezio had expected. And at the end, when he says his "I do" again, this time in the proper place, when he kisses his wife and puts his hand against her torso where their first child is already (and unknown to either of their mothers) beginning to grow, Ezio has never in his life felt as happy as he does just then. After this day, after _this moment,_ everything will be different. Brighter. Better. He doesn't have to be psychic to know that.

Even though he is.


End file.
